It's been a while since I last posted anything here. There's been some scheduling changes, some things have taken a temporary backseat, while other things have taken the forefront and demanded more time. That's the way life is, though, and apart from being less productive than I'd like to be, writing-wise, I suppose I can't complain. I'm still getting adjusted to the move from Florida to Canada and all the red-tape hijinks and cultural-adjustment follies that come with such a move. Then there's this weird stuff I've been seeing here: it's white and fluffy and falls from the sky, then collects on the ground only to melt and make things icy and slippery. It's called "snow", I think. Ever heard of it?
Anyway, since my last posting I've been working on the third Challenger Storm novel ("White Hell"): I'm about 10,000 words in and I've only just begun chapter 4 so I think I'm doing good so far. Maybe not: my writer friends probably read that word-count and scoffed. For me, that's pretty good, though. I've got a good feeling about this one, and shortly after finishing this post I'll be working on the book some more.
"The Valley of Fear" web serial isn't dead, just on a little hold for a while. I won't leave you (and Storm & friends) hanging for too much longer, but when I'm given the time and opportunity to work on the book I go for it.
The second Storm adventure, "The Curse of Poseidon", is still in production, and once again in the awesomely skilled hands of Michael Kaluta now. I've seen the rough sketches for the interior illustrations and I'm again blown away: not only does the artwork reflect the action and hardware in this tale, it also occasionally pauses to give a nice glimpse of the quiet moments between the bullets. I think- no, I know you'll love it.
What else? Let's see... Oh, I've taken the plunge (again) and I'm on Twitter now (as well as still on Facebook here and here, of course). If you haven't already stop by to say "hi", though I warn you that the stream-of-consciousness nature of social media often causes me to just talk about or post the most banal stuff in addition to talking about writing. In other words: I ramble and babble a bit sometimes. Like I'm doing right now, I guess.
I haven't had my coffee yet today, okay?
Anyway, I'm going to close this post with a new review of "The Isle of Blood" over at the British Fantasy Society. David Brzeski had some really nice things to say about the book, and I'm glad to see it's being enjoyed "across the pond", too.
Now, about that coffee...
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Sunday, February 3, 2013
CHALLENGER STORM: THE VALLEY OF FEAR- Episode 8
(NOTE: This serial takes place out of order chronologically with the Challenger Storm novels, which are being written with a definite timeline in mind. "The Valley of Fear" happens after at least book 5 or 6, but this shouldn't hinder the reading experience. I'm flying by the seat of my pants here, so I make no guarantees in regards to quality or coherence.)
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Episode 8: "The Same Deep Water as You"
Storm made another circuit of the room, inspecting the walls closer now. At his legs, the icy water splashed and lapped at the concrete cylinder around them.The blonde woman watched him as he walked sloshing through the room. The water was rapidly getting deeper, rising above their knees. "Well, you're awfully calm about all this," she said with panic creeping slightly into her tone.
"I'm thinking," he snapped tersely. Then his voice softened. "You shouldn't be here. I'm sorry you're in this with me," he said gently.
"No offense, but I am too," she said back. Then she snapped her fingers. "You!"
"Huh?" He looked at her quizzically.
"You! You're that guy that's in the papers sometimes, the one that helps people and has all those scientists on his payroll... whatsisname? Conqueror Strom!" She grinned.
"It's actually Storm," Storm replied, "'Challenger' Storm is what they call me in the news. But please- please- call me Cliff."
"Okay then, Cliff: how are we going to get out of here?" she asked him. The water was now nearly at her throat, rising faster than they originally thought it would.
"I'm working on it," Storm said, looking up at the roof high above them. "Can you swim?"
The blonde scoffed. "'Can you swim?', he asks me," she shook her head. "I should say so: I was part of Billy Rose's Aquacade before I went to Hollywood."
It was Storm's turn to recognize her. He did a double-take, seeing her face again, but really seeing it for the first time. "You're Fay Durning," he said to the actress.
She smiled for a second, the habitual response overriding her fear for a fleeting moment. "That's right. I'd shake your hand but I've begun to tread water now," she said. Indeed, the water was high enough now that the duo's feet were off the bottom of the room. The chilly water was rising, and fast.
"I heard a woman screaming out there in the jungle, before Zodiac brought us to his castle," Storm remembered aloud. "That was you, Miss Durning? Are you okay?"
She laughed. "You heard that too, huh? Yeah, that was me... but it wasn't me, it was audio that was recorded for the film we were making with that rat Jimmy Keane. Zodiac's men took it out into the jungle with them. They had a loudspeaker mounted on a truck."
Storm rolled his eyes. "I knew it sounded familiar. He played us for suckers, trying to lure us with that screaming."
"The movie rags say I'm the 'Queen of Scream', Fay said proudly, despite the situation around her. "My claim to fame, apparently."
The water had risen to nearly half the height of the chamber by now. Storm swam down to the bottom of the room, which was now lighted as well, to ensure there was no way out they had missed. There wasn't. The cylindrical concrete walls were smooth and unbroken, apart from the nozzles for the jets of water near the floor.
Swimming back to the top, his head broke the surface and as he shook the water from his face, something caught his eye near the top of the room, something he hadn't noticed before when he and Fay were at the bottom of the room.
The protuberances that were jutting slightly out of the walls that they had seen were levers set almost flush with the concrete. Next to each lever was some kind of symbol carved into the wall. Now that they were closer to the top, he could almost make them out.
Fay noticed him examining the walls closer. "What is it?" the actress asked him.
"I don't know, but it might be a way out," Storm replied. "I'm sure that Count Zodiac has no intentions on actually letting us go. But he's going to play with us first- his ego is his downfall- and if we play along smartly enough we could just beat him at his game."
The water was now about level with the bottom row of the levers, which were staggered around and up and down the wall near the top of the room. From the floor the carvings next to each lever had been almost invisible but now that they were almost on the level with the carvings, it was apparent to Storm what they were.
The carvings were zodiacal symbols, and each was on its own door, set flush with the walls of the chamber.
"They're doors," Fay said, and before Storm could stop her she swam to the nearest one, which was Capricorn. Bracing her feet against the wall, she pulled the lever down.
The door opened smoothly on its hinges, and unleashed a torrent of water into the room. The rushing liquid hit the actress in the face, knocking her back and into Storm's arms. The water level rose now, even faster than before, magnified by the water rushing from the open door.
"Well, I won't do that again," Fay said, sputtering water out along with her words, as Storm swam over to the now submerged lever next to the Capricorn hatch. He dove under and tried to pull the lever up, bracing his feet on the wall and pulling with all his strength. It was no good. The door was now in a permanently locked and open position.
The water level was nearing the top of the room. Fay Durning had now clambered up onto the platform holding the Aquarius statue, which was still pouring water from its urn. She watched as Storm broke the surface again. "Sorry," she called out.
"It's alright," he replied. "Just check with me first before doing something. There's a method to this, I know it. Zodiac doesn't do anything like this arbitrarily. I just need to figure out the pattern here. I'm sure that if any more wrong doors are opened we'll be in big trouble." He looked around: all the doors and levers were now submerged, and there was only a few feet of air left at the top of the room. One door had to be the right way out... but which was it?
Fay was clinging to the top of the Aquarius statue's head now. "Oh no," she moaned in despair, "I almost drowned once when I was with the Aquacade during a 'Moby Dick'-themed number... it's not fun at all. This is going to be much worse... and final!"
Storm's head snapped up, a look of sudden astonishment on his face. "'Moby Dick'!" he shouted, and dove underwater again.
Confused, Fay asked nobody in particular, "What?"
Under the water, Storm stroked down to the doors. He strained to make out the symbols on them through his water-fogged eyes. Libra, Cancer, Gemini... he was searching for one particular hatch.
Fay Durning's comment about Melville's novel sparked a memory: the line "when Aquarius, or the Water-bearer, pours out his whole deluge and drowns us; and to wind up with Pisces, or the Fishes, we sleep." That line echoed the order of the western zodiac's symbols. Storm and Fay had been locked in the Aquarius room, and Storm supposed that only one of the doors led out of it. In the horoscope, the sign of Aquarius was followed by that of Pisces. This could mean that it was the way out. It was a gambit, a risk Storm was taking. If the door opened to more water, he and the kidnapped actress were surely done for.
Storm found the Pisces door, its surface carved with the symbol that looked like a capital letter "H" with inwardly-curving sides. It was one of the lowest doors in the water-filled room. Above, the water was now inches away from the ceiling, Fay Durning pressed her face to it to breathe whatever air remained for her. Here goes nothing, Storm thought, and he gripped the door's lever. He braced, and pulled.
There was a massive slurping sound underwater, and the door opened inward instead of outward like the Capricorn door had. A massive pump activated somewhere: the water was sucked into the tunnel beyond the door, pulling Storm and Fay with it.
Lungs bursting from need of oxygen, the two captives found themselves swept at lightning speed through a long, dark, narrow conduit as the water was purged from the cylindrical room. They could drown here just as well if they didn't get any air soon. Then, up ahead through the murk a dim circle of light showed...
Suddenly they were out of the tube, out in the open air and falling, water all around them as they were poured out of a tunnel set into a hillside. The water and the captives fell dozens of feet to splash down in a deep pool below.
Bobbing up to the surface, they gasped air into their lungs. Fay coughed raggedly: she hadn't been ready for the purge and had sucked in some water with her last gasp of air.
"Warn somebody before you do that!" she yelled at Storm between hacks.
"It's my turn to say 'I'm sorry'," Storm replied. He was looking around them: they were at the head of the island's valley, in a deep, waterfall-fed pool surrounded by lush jungle. "I wasn't sure it would work. Thank God for your 'Moby Dick' experience."
"What are you talking about?" she yelped, still indignant over her near-drowning and their sudden fall through space.
Storm started to tell her about his "eureka" moment, when suddenly something brushed his leg. Something huge was in the water with them, and it wasn't exactly shy.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Friday, January 18, 2013
An Element of Inspiration
One of these days I'm going to get around to discussing the influences and inspirations behind the creation of Challenger Storm: it's a long post that I've been planning for some time but have never gotten around to writing yet, but it's coming.
In the meantime, I wanted to share something that led to the inspiration behind a couple of characters from the first Challenger Storm novel, The Isle of Blood: J. Gordon Tolliver and his daughter, Katherine.
My Mom used to like going to antique stores when I was a teenager and I used to like going with her sometimes. She still goes antiquing, but I haven't gone with her in a long time. On one such antique-shopping expedition, I came across a batch of old photographs. Old photos fascinate me: I often wonder who are these people? Where did they live? What happened during their lives? I bought a batch of these photos and in among them was this picture (click to enlarge):
In the meantime, I wanted to share something that led to the inspiration behind a couple of characters from the first Challenger Storm novel, The Isle of Blood: J. Gordon Tolliver and his daughter, Katherine.
My Mom used to like going to antique stores when I was a teenager and I used to like going with her sometimes. She still goes antiquing, but I haven't gone with her in a long time. On one such antique-shopping expedition, I came across a batch of old photographs. Old photos fascinate me: I often wonder who are these people? Where did they live? What happened during their lives? I bought a batch of these photos and in among them was this picture (click to enlarge):
I don't know who they were, and the only indicator which might be the year of the photo was the number "42" stamped on the back. Not sure if that was 1942, batch 42, or the meaning of life (and if you don't get that reference, I don't want to know you). As soon as I saw the photo, however, I knew somehow, someway, I was going to write a story involving them.
And so they became the inspiration behind White Heron aviation tycoon J Gordon Tolliver and his schoolteacher daughter, Katherine. Looking back at my fictional world, I like to think this picture of them was taken in the USA after the events on La Isla de Sangre. The rifts that those events caused in their lives and relationship have hopefully been mended by then.
Saturday, January 12, 2013
CHALLENGER STORM: THE VALLEY OF FEAR- Episode 7
(NOTE: This serial takes place out of order chronologically with the Challenger Storm novels, which are being written with a definite timeline in mind. "The Valley of Fear" happens after at least book 5 or 6, but this shouldn't hinder the reading experience. I'm flying by the seat of my pants here, so I make no guarantees in regards to quality or coherence.)
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Episode 7: "The Gauntlet Begins"
There was only darkness, warm and languid, and he floated in it comfortably. His mind was only vaguely aware of the feeling. It seemed infinite and without start or end and unbroken. There was nothing but the void and the floating.
And then there was a tapping.
The tapping was vague, without a source. He couldn't tell which of his senses was responding to the tapping: was it a noise or a sensation of touch? Was it even really there at all? He was lost, looking for it.
The tapping stopped for a moment, and a voice spoke. It was soft and feminine. "Wake up," it said. "You have to wake up."
It was hard to respond to the sound and the tapping, which was definitely a touch and it began again after the voice had ceased. His floating comfort, the dark void that surrounded him... it felt like he had returned to the womb with no cares for anything else. Did anything else exist? Had it ever existed? It didn't matter...
The tapping ceased for a moment then began again, more insistent. And with it, the voice came back.
"Please, wake up," the voice said with more urgency creeping into it. "Please."
He began to wish the voice and the tapping would go away. He stirred and fought to stay under, to stay in his warm netherworld.
The woman's voice spoke again.
"Dammit, mister, WAKE UP!"
SLAP!
The open-handed strike across Storm's face broke through the drug's barriers, thrusting him back into consciousness. He gasped as his eyes snapped open; in reflex, his hand lashed out and grasped the wrist of the hand that had struck him. He sat up, his eyes glazed and striving to focus on the world around him.
A woman knelt beside him, clad in a clingy green evening dress that showed off her hourglass shape. She was honey-blonde, with a strong jaw and matching cheekbones that added a regal strength to her beauty. A pair of wide hazel eyes displayed her shock at Storm's sudden awakening. The woman's Cupid's-bow lips opened above her slightly cleft chin and she uttered a single sound.
"Ow."
Storm blinked and realized he was gripping her wrist with more force than he should have been. He released it. "I'm sorry," he apologized, "I didn't mean to..."
"It's alright," the woman said as she shook her hand a few times. "I'm sorry for the slap, but I really need you awake here with me. Something's happening."
Their surroundings began to come into focus for Storm: they were in a circular room, the walls smooth and unbroken concrete. The dim light that lit them came from a ring of lights high above their heads, nearly forty feet straight up at the top of the cylindrical chamber. A thick platform stuck out from one side of the room, and there was a statue, a little over life-size, standing upon it. The statue was of a nude male figure, holding some kind of large jar or urn as if it was pouring something out of it. There were also some other kind of protuberances jutting out from the surrounding curved walls, but they were too high above to be seen clearly from the floor. A faint sound accompanied the room: a muted gurgling noise that was coming from behind the walls.
Storm sprang to his feet but wavered dizzily and stumbled. The woman got up and kept him from falling over. Leaning against the wall, Storm shook his head and focused, concentrating on slicing through the drug's after-effects that fogged him.
"You were way too sleepy to be just dozing," the woman explained to Storm as he breathed deeply. "Whatever you were drugged with, they got me with it too. I just woke up here shortly before you..."
A loud squelch from hidden speakers above them cut her off.
"I see you are both awake now," a voice said. "I was beginning to fear I'd used too much of the tranquillizer."
"Sorry, Zodiac," Storm said, "I'm still here. Thanks for the nap, though."
"Well, I'm glad that you're well-rested," the disembodied voice of Count Zodiac replied. "You'll want to be awake for this.
"As I told you over lunch," Zodiac continued, "you are here because you stole my country- my destiny- from me. An eye for an eye, my friend. I'm sure you can understand."
"This is between you and me. Let the girl go, she's got nothing to do with this." As he talked, Storm circled the room, looking for any point of exit. There was none. He still had his utility harness on, somehow, but he didn't have anything in the pouches at the time capable of blasting through the concrete. "Why don't you come out in the open and we can settle this."
"The girl is there with you to give you incentive, Storm. To help raise the stakes." Zodiac paused before speaking again, and when he did, there was a new tone of menace in his voice. "We're going to play a little game, you and I. Beat my game, and I'll let you, your friends, and my other guests go free. If you lose this island becomes your grave, and the grave of all those whose lives you carry now on your shoulder, even those of the natives on the other side of the island."
"What's he talking about?" the blonde asked Storm.
"Who knows? He's crazy," he replied. And dangerous enough to back it all up, he thought to himself.
"To win," Zodiac went on, "you're going to have to get from where you are now- the head of the valley at the north-eastern end of the island- to the goal, which is located at the other end of the valley to the south-west. Along the way, you're going to have to prove yourself- again and again- in tests that I've built just for you.
"You are currently standing in the first of those tests: the Aquarius Room."
There was a clang somewhere, behind the concrete walls of the cylindrical room, and the muted gurgling changed pitch.
"The time for talk is over," Count Zodiac announced. "I'd wish you luck, Mr. Storm, but you and I both know I'd be lying to you. The gauntlet begins... now!"
A torrent of water broke free from the statue's urn, and it poured down into the room. The blonde yelped as she jumped out of the path of the downpour, only to find jets of water spouting from the walls down near their ankles.
"Oh God, he's gonna drown us," she said.
Storm nodded. "Yes, I believe he means to do just that."
And then there was a tapping.
The tapping was vague, without a source. He couldn't tell which of his senses was responding to the tapping: was it a noise or a sensation of touch? Was it even really there at all? He was lost, looking for it.
The tapping stopped for a moment, and a voice spoke. It was soft and feminine. "Wake up," it said. "You have to wake up."
It was hard to respond to the sound and the tapping, which was definitely a touch and it began again after the voice had ceased. His floating comfort, the dark void that surrounded him... it felt like he had returned to the womb with no cares for anything else. Did anything else exist? Had it ever existed? It didn't matter...
The tapping ceased for a moment then began again, more insistent. And with it, the voice came back.
"Please, wake up," the voice said with more urgency creeping into it. "Please."
He began to wish the voice and the tapping would go away. He stirred and fought to stay under, to stay in his warm netherworld.
The woman's voice spoke again.
"Dammit, mister, WAKE UP!"
SLAP!
The open-handed strike across Storm's face broke through the drug's barriers, thrusting him back into consciousness. He gasped as his eyes snapped open; in reflex, his hand lashed out and grasped the wrist of the hand that had struck him. He sat up, his eyes glazed and striving to focus on the world around him.
A woman knelt beside him, clad in a clingy green evening dress that showed off her hourglass shape. She was honey-blonde, with a strong jaw and matching cheekbones that added a regal strength to her beauty. A pair of wide hazel eyes displayed her shock at Storm's sudden awakening. The woman's Cupid's-bow lips opened above her slightly cleft chin and she uttered a single sound.
"Ow."
Storm blinked and realized he was gripping her wrist with more force than he should have been. He released it. "I'm sorry," he apologized, "I didn't mean to..."
"It's alright," the woman said as she shook her hand a few times. "I'm sorry for the slap, but I really need you awake here with me. Something's happening."
Their surroundings began to come into focus for Storm: they were in a circular room, the walls smooth and unbroken concrete. The dim light that lit them came from a ring of lights high above their heads, nearly forty feet straight up at the top of the cylindrical chamber. A thick platform stuck out from one side of the room, and there was a statue, a little over life-size, standing upon it. The statue was of a nude male figure, holding some kind of large jar or urn as if it was pouring something out of it. There were also some other kind of protuberances jutting out from the surrounding curved walls, but they were too high above to be seen clearly from the floor. A faint sound accompanied the room: a muted gurgling noise that was coming from behind the walls.
Storm sprang to his feet but wavered dizzily and stumbled. The woman got up and kept him from falling over. Leaning against the wall, Storm shook his head and focused, concentrating on slicing through the drug's after-effects that fogged him.
"You were way too sleepy to be just dozing," the woman explained to Storm as he breathed deeply. "Whatever you were drugged with, they got me with it too. I just woke up here shortly before you..."
A loud squelch from hidden speakers above them cut her off.
"I see you are both awake now," a voice said. "I was beginning to fear I'd used too much of the tranquillizer."
"Sorry, Zodiac," Storm said, "I'm still here. Thanks for the nap, though."
"Well, I'm glad that you're well-rested," the disembodied voice of Count Zodiac replied. "You'll want to be awake for this.
"As I told you over lunch," Zodiac continued, "you are here because you stole my country- my destiny- from me. An eye for an eye, my friend. I'm sure you can understand."
"This is between you and me. Let the girl go, she's got nothing to do with this." As he talked, Storm circled the room, looking for any point of exit. There was none. He still had his utility harness on, somehow, but he didn't have anything in the pouches at the time capable of blasting through the concrete. "Why don't you come out in the open and we can settle this."
"The girl is there with you to give you incentive, Storm. To help raise the stakes." Zodiac paused before speaking again, and when he did, there was a new tone of menace in his voice. "We're going to play a little game, you and I. Beat my game, and I'll let you, your friends, and my other guests go free. If you lose this island becomes your grave, and the grave of all those whose lives you carry now on your shoulder, even those of the natives on the other side of the island."
"What's he talking about?" the blonde asked Storm.
"Who knows? He's crazy," he replied. And dangerous enough to back it all up, he thought to himself.
"To win," Zodiac went on, "you're going to have to get from where you are now- the head of the valley at the north-eastern end of the island- to the goal, which is located at the other end of the valley to the south-west. Along the way, you're going to have to prove yourself- again and again- in tests that I've built just for you.
"You are currently standing in the first of those tests: the Aquarius Room."
There was a clang somewhere, behind the concrete walls of the cylindrical room, and the muted gurgling changed pitch.
"The time for talk is over," Count Zodiac announced. "I'd wish you luck, Mr. Storm, but you and I both know I'd be lying to you. The gauntlet begins... now!"
A torrent of water broke free from the statue's urn, and it poured down into the room. The blonde yelped as she jumped out of the path of the downpour, only to find jets of water spouting from the walls down near their ankles.
"Oh God, he's gonna drown us," she said.
Storm nodded. "Yes, I believe he means to do just that."
TO BE CONTINUED...
Saturday, October 27, 2012
CHALLENGER STORM: THE VALLEY OF FEAR- Episode 6
(NOTE: This serial takes place out of order chronologically with the Challenger Storm novels, which are being written with a definite timeline in mind. "The Valley of Fear" happens after at least book 5 or 6, but this shouldn't hinder the reading experience. I'm flying by the seat of my pants here, so I make no guarantees in regards to quality or coherence.)
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Episode 6: "Lunch and Treachery"
There was a moment of silence as the two men sized each other up. A wind sprang up and stirred the humid air of the island, and the trees around them sighed and whispered in the breeze. Finally, Storm ended the silence.
"I was blind not to see the signs. The uniforms were one, and that bull-horned fellow with the helmet... I suppose he's Taurus?"
Count Zodiac nodded. "Absolutely. Taurus is my current enforcer, the strong arm of my empire."
Storm scoffed. "Empire? Seems to me I quashed your dreams of an empire back in '35. I wouldn't exactly call hiding out here in the jungle an empire."
An ember of hot anger briefly stirred in Zodiac's black eyes, but it passed and he smiled. "I suppose this seems small-scaled when compared to the scope of my vision when we last met," he calmly said, "but I needed to get my feet under me again somewhere, and this was as good a place as any."
"Yeah, the natives here don't seem too thrilled about that. I don't suppose you know anything about a girl we heard screaming in the jungle out there?"
Zodiac ignored the comments and turned on his heel, motioning for his captives and their guards to follow him into the castle.
"It's regrettable that your aircraft had to be destroyed to bring you here: the ornithopters were designed only to destroy your craft, not to eliminate you and your men when you bailed out. It's a shame, but necessary. I admire your fleet and the modifications that you make on your planes."
"A fleet that's now down by one seaplane, thank you. I suppose those ornithopters should have raised a flag for me too," Storm replied, shuffling along with his shackled feet. "They were a piece of work, really. I noticed that they split into two to do their dirty work once they landed on the plane. I suppose that's another zodiacal reference, too: Gemini, the twins... an 'air sign'?"
Zodiac chuckled. "Right you are. You continue to be as perceptive as when we last met."
"And you continue to keep sticking to your tired horoscope-shtick," Storm countered with a lopsided grin. He remembered Count Zodiac's mania for astrology and how he disliked it being mocked. "Ever thought about getting a new gimmick, Count?"
Zodiac wheeled, the spark again within his eyes. "The stars chart our fate, our course in life. It is no gimmick, no arbitrary theme that I have chosen. Fate chose me, as I told you before. It is a gift, a gift of power, and you are in no position to poke fun at it."
Storm grinned back in defiance but his eyes held anger, a rage he'd held suspended for four years. "Whatever you say, Madame Zelda."
Zodiac ignored the taunt and turned again, and the others followed in his wake into the castle. Willy and Brock exchanged a questioning glance before they started to walk with the others. The MARDL troubleshooters had heard of the villain known as Count Zodiac, and had known that Storm had encountered him once before while on a mission for a secret US government group simply called "The Eye", but they didn't know much more about the event. Neither of them had been on the mission with Storm, and their friend and leader was very reluctant to discuss the details of the encounter with them. There were some raw nerves being played upon here and it was evident that despite Storm's flippant attitude toward the strange Count, there was a seething and deep-seated anger between the two men. For now, however, they would have to wait for an answer, if one would ever come. All they could do was continue their march into Zodiac's fortress and wonder, just as Storm was wondering, exactly where and what they were being led to.
The castle's structure was enormous, with soaring arched ceilings and ornate stonework at every turn. Everywhere Storm and his teammates looked, their gaze was met with a beautifully crafted tribute to a zodiacal sign in nearly every room: a statue and fountain built to honor Aquarius, a massive stone lion representing Leo, an enormous flaming chandelier designed to look like the scales of Libra... There was a grand hall, and the floor was an elaborate mosaic depicting all of the signs of the horoscope in a circular pattern, with corresponding constellations and planetary figures at the design's outer edges. The grandeur of the setting was only matched by the military-like presence of Zodiac's forces: there were uniformed guards everywhere, many of them adorned with astrological symbols that denoted their specialties within Zodiac's mad army.
Finally, after leading his soldiers and the captive adventurers to an upper level of the castle, Zodiac paused before a closed door. He turned briefly toward his captives and said, "You're just in time for lunch," before he turned and pushed open the massive wooden door. Beyond the portal, a sunny open terrace was revealed, and beyond it was a beautiful panoramic view of the island's valley. A long wooden table was laid out with a pristine white tablecloth, and upon this were succulent-looking exotic dishes in serving bowls and platters. The odor of spices mixed with the jungle air on the breeze to bring the feeling of a tropical paradise to the newcomers, a feeling only broken by the presence of the armed soldiers of Count Zodiac's army.
Sitting at the table was a man in a crisp white shirt and khaki trousers. He looked like a vacationing member of the idle rich, but on second glance Storm recognized him: he was the missing B-movie producer and director, Jimmy Keane. Keane's round face beamed in a grin at the sight of Storm and his men.
"You got him," he said in a slightly hushed and awed tone to Count Zodiac. "Geez, I can't believe you really got him."
"Of course I got him," Zodiac replied imperiously as he sat at the head of the table. "There was no reason he wouldn't have come." Then to the captives: "Please, sit." He motioned them to their chairs.
Storm rattled his shackles. "Oh, you're just too kind," he said sarcastically. He sat down at the other end of the table, and Willy and Brock flanked him on either side as they sat.
Servers appeared and they set about making plates for the men at the table. The dishes were hard to identify, being some kind of fusion of styles: Indian spices, Chinese vegetables, an American-style sirloin steak... the mix was heady but delicious. Several ice-buckets appeared, and the diners were served fine red wines in crystal goblets. Although they chose ice water over the wine, Storm and his team ate with surprising gusto, and they had not realized they had been so hungry until now. The first half of the meal was eaten in silence.
Finally, after the most of his hunger was sated, Storm broke the silence. "All right, Zodiac. I know you didn't just invite us over for lunch. What's it all about?" He sipped at his glass of water.
"Well, it's all about revenge," Count Zodiac said, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers before him. "It's about a dream you plucked from my grasp, and the dreams I've had since of destroying you."
"Ah, of course it is. Spoken like a true mad villain with a thorn in his side," Storm shook his head. "And I suppose Mr. Hollywood here and his crew was just the bait?" he nodded toward Keane.
Jimmy Keane dropped his gaze shamefully, and Zodiac spoke for him. "Indeed. Mr. Keane had run afoul of some bad men in America. He was already living the Hollywood high life, but it wasn't as high as others. So he borrowed money to help him live above and beyond his means and he couldn't pay it back. And then the men he borrowed money from were threatening him with torture and worse. It's a very old story."
Storm nodded, already sensing where this was going.
"Mr. Keane," Zodiac continued, "sunk all of his remaining money into what he hoped would be an epic film to be shot on location in the islands of the Pacific-"
"And it stunk," interjected Keane without looking up from his plate. "I would never have been able to make back what I owed. I was a damn fool."
"And that's where you came in, I suppose?" Storm asked Zodiac.
"Of course. You see, I've been watching you for some time, Mr. Storm. I see you globetrotting and travelling, and the whole time I've been biding my time and waiting for you to come near me. I knew that you cannot resist helping someone in need, and so I contacted Mr. Keane and arranged to help him if he helped me."
"In the US we say 'you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours'," Brock grunted.
"Very quaint, but nonetheless appropriate," Zodiac replied before continuing. "I helped him to arrange an 'accident' to befall his crew's chartered aircraft when it neared my island home here, made sure you heard the distress call on your return trip from Australia, and the rest, as they say, is history. The timing couldn't have been more perfect for me. The stars smiled in my favor once again."
Storm glanced over at the filmmaker, who was starting to look nauseous. "And what about the others with Keane? The crew and cast... where are they?"
"Safe, for now," Zodiac replied. "Although I can't guarantee how long that will last. Their livelihood is going to rest squarely on your shoulders, I'm afraid."
Finishing the last of his water, Storm swallowed. Here it comes, he thought.
"And why is that?" Storm asked.
"You'll find out, just as soon as you wake up," Zodiac smiled.
A wave of heat washed over Storm's insides, and he felt a cold sweat spring up on his forehead. The water...
Storm stood up but his legs tottered and felt like noodles beneath him. The world was spinning around his head.
"I am such an idiot...," Storm mumbled aloud with a loopy grin before collapsing into unconsciousness.
"I was blind not to see the signs. The uniforms were one, and that bull-horned fellow with the helmet... I suppose he's Taurus?"
Count Zodiac nodded. "Absolutely. Taurus is my current enforcer, the strong arm of my empire."
Storm scoffed. "Empire? Seems to me I quashed your dreams of an empire back in '35. I wouldn't exactly call hiding out here in the jungle an empire."
An ember of hot anger briefly stirred in Zodiac's black eyes, but it passed and he smiled. "I suppose this seems small-scaled when compared to the scope of my vision when we last met," he calmly said, "but I needed to get my feet under me again somewhere, and this was as good a place as any."
"Yeah, the natives here don't seem too thrilled about that. I don't suppose you know anything about a girl we heard screaming in the jungle out there?"
Zodiac ignored the comments and turned on his heel, motioning for his captives and their guards to follow him into the castle.
"It's regrettable that your aircraft had to be destroyed to bring you here: the ornithopters were designed only to destroy your craft, not to eliminate you and your men when you bailed out. It's a shame, but necessary. I admire your fleet and the modifications that you make on your planes."
"A fleet that's now down by one seaplane, thank you. I suppose those ornithopters should have raised a flag for me too," Storm replied, shuffling along with his shackled feet. "They were a piece of work, really. I noticed that they split into two to do their dirty work once they landed on the plane. I suppose that's another zodiacal reference, too: Gemini, the twins... an 'air sign'?"
Zodiac chuckled. "Right you are. You continue to be as perceptive as when we last met."
"And you continue to keep sticking to your tired horoscope-shtick," Storm countered with a lopsided grin. He remembered Count Zodiac's mania for astrology and how he disliked it being mocked. "Ever thought about getting a new gimmick, Count?"
Zodiac wheeled, the spark again within his eyes. "The stars chart our fate, our course in life. It is no gimmick, no arbitrary theme that I have chosen. Fate chose me, as I told you before. It is a gift, a gift of power, and you are in no position to poke fun at it."
Storm grinned back in defiance but his eyes held anger, a rage he'd held suspended for four years. "Whatever you say, Madame Zelda."
Zodiac ignored the taunt and turned again, and the others followed in his wake into the castle. Willy and Brock exchanged a questioning glance before they started to walk with the others. The MARDL troubleshooters had heard of the villain known as Count Zodiac, and had known that Storm had encountered him once before while on a mission for a secret US government group simply called "The Eye", but they didn't know much more about the event. Neither of them had been on the mission with Storm, and their friend and leader was very reluctant to discuss the details of the encounter with them. There were some raw nerves being played upon here and it was evident that despite Storm's flippant attitude toward the strange Count, there was a seething and deep-seated anger between the two men. For now, however, they would have to wait for an answer, if one would ever come. All they could do was continue their march into Zodiac's fortress and wonder, just as Storm was wondering, exactly where and what they were being led to.
The castle's structure was enormous, with soaring arched ceilings and ornate stonework at every turn. Everywhere Storm and his teammates looked, their gaze was met with a beautifully crafted tribute to a zodiacal sign in nearly every room: a statue and fountain built to honor Aquarius, a massive stone lion representing Leo, an enormous flaming chandelier designed to look like the scales of Libra... There was a grand hall, and the floor was an elaborate mosaic depicting all of the signs of the horoscope in a circular pattern, with corresponding constellations and planetary figures at the design's outer edges. The grandeur of the setting was only matched by the military-like presence of Zodiac's forces: there were uniformed guards everywhere, many of them adorned with astrological symbols that denoted their specialties within Zodiac's mad army.
Finally, after leading his soldiers and the captive adventurers to an upper level of the castle, Zodiac paused before a closed door. He turned briefly toward his captives and said, "You're just in time for lunch," before he turned and pushed open the massive wooden door. Beyond the portal, a sunny open terrace was revealed, and beyond it was a beautiful panoramic view of the island's valley. A long wooden table was laid out with a pristine white tablecloth, and upon this were succulent-looking exotic dishes in serving bowls and platters. The odor of spices mixed with the jungle air on the breeze to bring the feeling of a tropical paradise to the newcomers, a feeling only broken by the presence of the armed soldiers of Count Zodiac's army.
Sitting at the table was a man in a crisp white shirt and khaki trousers. He looked like a vacationing member of the idle rich, but on second glance Storm recognized him: he was the missing B-movie producer and director, Jimmy Keane. Keane's round face beamed in a grin at the sight of Storm and his men.
"You got him," he said in a slightly hushed and awed tone to Count Zodiac. "Geez, I can't believe you really got him."
"Of course I got him," Zodiac replied imperiously as he sat at the head of the table. "There was no reason he wouldn't have come." Then to the captives: "Please, sit." He motioned them to their chairs.
Storm rattled his shackles. "Oh, you're just too kind," he said sarcastically. He sat down at the other end of the table, and Willy and Brock flanked him on either side as they sat.
Servers appeared and they set about making plates for the men at the table. The dishes were hard to identify, being some kind of fusion of styles: Indian spices, Chinese vegetables, an American-style sirloin steak... the mix was heady but delicious. Several ice-buckets appeared, and the diners were served fine red wines in crystal goblets. Although they chose ice water over the wine, Storm and his team ate with surprising gusto, and they had not realized they had been so hungry until now. The first half of the meal was eaten in silence.
Finally, after the most of his hunger was sated, Storm broke the silence. "All right, Zodiac. I know you didn't just invite us over for lunch. What's it all about?" He sipped at his glass of water.
"Well, it's all about revenge," Count Zodiac said, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers before him. "It's about a dream you plucked from my grasp, and the dreams I've had since of destroying you."
"Ah, of course it is. Spoken like a true mad villain with a thorn in his side," Storm shook his head. "And I suppose Mr. Hollywood here and his crew was just the bait?" he nodded toward Keane.
Jimmy Keane dropped his gaze shamefully, and Zodiac spoke for him. "Indeed. Mr. Keane had run afoul of some bad men in America. He was already living the Hollywood high life, but it wasn't as high as others. So he borrowed money to help him live above and beyond his means and he couldn't pay it back. And then the men he borrowed money from were threatening him with torture and worse. It's a very old story."
Storm nodded, already sensing where this was going.
"Mr. Keane," Zodiac continued, "sunk all of his remaining money into what he hoped would be an epic film to be shot on location in the islands of the Pacific-"
"And it stunk," interjected Keane without looking up from his plate. "I would never have been able to make back what I owed. I was a damn fool."
"And that's where you came in, I suppose?" Storm asked Zodiac.
"Of course. You see, I've been watching you for some time, Mr. Storm. I see you globetrotting and travelling, and the whole time I've been biding my time and waiting for you to come near me. I knew that you cannot resist helping someone in need, and so I contacted Mr. Keane and arranged to help him if he helped me."
"In the US we say 'you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours'," Brock grunted.
"Very quaint, but nonetheless appropriate," Zodiac replied before continuing. "I helped him to arrange an 'accident' to befall his crew's chartered aircraft when it neared my island home here, made sure you heard the distress call on your return trip from Australia, and the rest, as they say, is history. The timing couldn't have been more perfect for me. The stars smiled in my favor once again."
Storm glanced over at the filmmaker, who was starting to look nauseous. "And what about the others with Keane? The crew and cast... where are they?"
"Safe, for now," Zodiac replied. "Although I can't guarantee how long that will last. Their livelihood is going to rest squarely on your shoulders, I'm afraid."
Finishing the last of his water, Storm swallowed. Here it comes, he thought.
"And why is that?" Storm asked.
"You'll find out, just as soon as you wake up," Zodiac smiled.
A wave of heat washed over Storm's insides, and he felt a cold sweat spring up on his forehead. The water...
Storm stood up but his legs tottered and felt like noodles beneath him. The world was spinning around his head.
"I am such an idiot...," Storm mumbled aloud with a loopy grin before collapsing into unconsciousness.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Saturday, October 13, 2012
CHALLENGER STORM: THE VALLEY OF FEAR- Episode 5
(NOTE: This serial takes place out of order chronologically with the Challenger Storm novels, which are being written with a definite timeline in mind. "The Valley of Fear" happens after at least book 5 or 6, but this shouldn't hinder the reading experience. I'm flying by the seat of my pants here, so I make no guarantees in regards to quality or coherence.)
+++
Episode 5: "Marauders"
The black armored vehicle bore down on where the captive adventurers stood along with the king and Bob the translator. Between the horns on the front-mounted battering ram and the flames from Storm's incendiary grenade, it appeared to be a demon on a rampage... and it was out to trample over them.
The knot of people scattered, but the king stood defiant with a raised spear as the truck barreled toward him. Storm leaped back into the path of the vehicle and knocked the king out of the way just as the flaming truck roared through the space where he'd been standing. Storm thought the king was proud and brave and he admired that, but he thought he was also foolish for standing ground against such an enemy while armed with only a spear.
The other trucks, meanwhile, were tearing through the village, chasing women and children. One of the behemoths demolished one of the larger huts as easily as a bowling ball would roll through a stack of toothpicks. This had to stop.
Reaching into one of the pouches on his utility harness, Storm withdrew a handful of small metallic objects in assorted pointed-shapes, and he flung these into the path of the nearest armored truck. The chassis and body of the truck were heavily plated with thick armor, but the wheels were standard pneumatic tires. If one of the caltrops could pierce one of those wheels....
The first set of the truck's tires sped unharmed over the patch of spiked caltrops, but as the rear wheels reached them there was a loud pop as one of the tires was punctured. Fishtailing wildly, the truck fought to keep control.
Storm seized the moment and charged the truck, leaping up onto it just as a grey-uniformed gunner popped up behind the machine gun turret. Storm swung a hard left roundhouse punch and it caught the would-be gunner on the chin, knocking him out cold. The man limply fell back into the turret.
The door to the truck popped open: another soldier leaned out and swung a pistol up toward Storm's face. Ducking and lunging forward, Storm gripped the soldier's hand with his own while striking out with his other. Storm's fingers jabbed at a nerve cluster at the soldier's neck, and he found his gun hand limp as Storm snatched the weapon.
Suddenly, a surge of uniformed soldiers washed over Storm as a group of men clambered from the back of the vehicle. They fought to wrestle the adventurer down off the truck and onto the ground, but they didn't count on the whirling dervish that was suddenly within their midst. A practitioner of several martial arts, Storm struck out in multiple directions at once. A punch Storm had thrown across the face of one soldier in front of him became an elbow-strike to a soldier behind him, while a soldier sneaking up on Storm's side was knocked off with a swift kick to the stomach.
Meanwhile, Willy and Brock had been in action since avoiding the first truck. The pair had gone for their confiscated weapons after the tribesmen holding them had dropped them in their surprise. After plucking them up, the MARDL team members followed Storm's lead and turned their guns on the wheels of another of the armored vehicles. With tires blown, the vehicle skidded to a stop and began to discharge its own soldiers. The wave of soldiers were surprised to find the fighting spirit of the native tribe was still strong in the face of their blitz, however, and were met with a wave of the spear-wielding warriors before they could begin to fight.
The tide of the sudden attack was turning against the soldiers, but as sudden as the fight had begun it was ended.
"Enough!" a voice boomed above the fracas, and everyone stopped in mid-fight to turn toward the sound.
The leader of the squad of marauders stood in the center of the village. He was huge, well over six and a half feet tall and thickly muscled. His grey uniform was like those of his comrades, but the sleeves had been ripped off and exposed his arms. Covering the leader's head and face was a steel helmet, and this was broken only by a narrow slit that his dark eyes peered out from. Mounted on the helmet was another pair of steel bull's horns, similar to what was mounted on the trucks' battering rams. Behind him the crew of the flaming armored truck were smothering the fire that had engulfed the vehicle, but the dying inferno seemed to frame his outline and made his appearance even more devilish.
The horned leader held one of the tribe's children up by the throat in one hand, and a heavy war mace in the other.
"Tell your men to stand down, Storm, or this little jungle-rat becomes my baseball." His voice was heavy and thick, strangely accented and modulated by the bizarre helmet he wore. "You won't get another chance."
The child kicked and flailed his legs and gripped the monstrous leader's wrists in a struggle to get free from the choking grasp. His eyes were wide and teary with fear. At the sight of the boy's struggling, the tribes-people had already ceased their fighting. They retained the grip on their weapons, however, and their eyes shifted from their leader to Storm.
Storm, who had frozen in mid-punch, release his hold on a soldier's collar and nodded angrily. "Drop 'em, guys," he told his friends. "There'll be other chances." Willy and Brock begrudgingly did as they were told and lowered their weapons to the ground. The other soldiers trained their weapons on the people of the village. If there was any trouble from Storm and his aides, they would be cut down. Too many innocent lives would be lost. Storm and his men were powerless.
"Predictable," the leader grunted. He lowered the boy to the ground but did not release the hold on his throat. "Give up your weapons to my men. And those gadgets, Storm... hand those over as well. Someone wants to see you."
Frustrated and helpless to act, the Americans did as they were told. Unarmed now, they were brought to the vehicle that had carried the hulking leader into battle; a group of soldiers accosted them. Storm and his friends were shackled and led into the rear of the truck, and the soldiers kept their guns trained on the captives the entire time. None of the group of uniformed men said anything else to the troubleshooters, even when they prodded their captors with questions. In the meantime, soldiers began repairing the tires on the crippled armored vehicles, and the fire was finally smothered on the armor plating of the lead vehicle.
Soon the vehicles were ready to leave, and one by one they left the village and its confused residents behind. They drove through the jungle as the sun reached its apex in the sky, through rough roads and bare sandy paths. The invaders on the island- if indeed that's who these men were- had obviously been quite busy and had cut their presence into the jungle for some time now. The paths lead the trucks inexorably onward, through the deep green jungle, to the other end of the island.
Finally, as the jungle path rounded a corner, the trees dropped away from the side of the road and exposed a deep, dark valley to the trucks' view. Storm, Willy, and Brock viewed the scene through a thin opening in the armor-plates on the side of the truck. They had glimpsed this valley earlier that morning from the air a few moments before the ornithopters' attack, and it seemed like a deep cut that bisected the entire island along its length. The valley was overgrown with jungle trees, and it seemed to swallow the light from the noonday sun above.
At the head of the valley, at the top of a cliff, stood a strange building. It looked like a castle, but the walls were smooth and window-less and the parapets were sharp and threatening teeth against the blue sky behind it. This was seen only for a few moments before the trucks rounded another turn and the trees around them swallowed the road up again.
Finally, the three trucks emerged from their road and rolled to a stop before the strange castle. The grand entrance was fitted with massive iron doors, over twenty feet in height, and these were wide open. Leading from these doors to the open archway of the cobblestone courtyard around the castle was a massive red carpet. As the shackled prisoners were led up the carpet toward the castle, they were approached by a tall man dressed in some kind of crimson and black military-dress uniform. He was flanked on either side by black-uniformed bodyguards. Tall and broad-chested, the man walked with a regal bearing and with his hands clasped behind his back. His mane of leonine hair was the same jet-black that his full beard was, and his eyes burned with a wild and dangerous light upon seeing the captives.
"Challenger Storm," he said in greeting, his voice deep and smooth.
"Count Zodiac," Storm responded. He was calm and assured on the outside, but inside the adventurer was kicking himself: he should have known it was Zodiac all along.
The knot of people scattered, but the king stood defiant with a raised spear as the truck barreled toward him. Storm leaped back into the path of the vehicle and knocked the king out of the way just as the flaming truck roared through the space where he'd been standing. Storm thought the king was proud and brave and he admired that, but he thought he was also foolish for standing ground against such an enemy while armed with only a spear.
The other trucks, meanwhile, were tearing through the village, chasing women and children. One of the behemoths demolished one of the larger huts as easily as a bowling ball would roll through a stack of toothpicks. This had to stop.
Reaching into one of the pouches on his utility harness, Storm withdrew a handful of small metallic objects in assorted pointed-shapes, and he flung these into the path of the nearest armored truck. The chassis and body of the truck were heavily plated with thick armor, but the wheels were standard pneumatic tires. If one of the caltrops could pierce one of those wheels....
The first set of the truck's tires sped unharmed over the patch of spiked caltrops, but as the rear wheels reached them there was a loud pop as one of the tires was punctured. Fishtailing wildly, the truck fought to keep control.
Storm seized the moment and charged the truck, leaping up onto it just as a grey-uniformed gunner popped up behind the machine gun turret. Storm swung a hard left roundhouse punch and it caught the would-be gunner on the chin, knocking him out cold. The man limply fell back into the turret.
The door to the truck popped open: another soldier leaned out and swung a pistol up toward Storm's face. Ducking and lunging forward, Storm gripped the soldier's hand with his own while striking out with his other. Storm's fingers jabbed at a nerve cluster at the soldier's neck, and he found his gun hand limp as Storm snatched the weapon.
Suddenly, a surge of uniformed soldiers washed over Storm as a group of men clambered from the back of the vehicle. They fought to wrestle the adventurer down off the truck and onto the ground, but they didn't count on the whirling dervish that was suddenly within their midst. A practitioner of several martial arts, Storm struck out in multiple directions at once. A punch Storm had thrown across the face of one soldier in front of him became an elbow-strike to a soldier behind him, while a soldier sneaking up on Storm's side was knocked off with a swift kick to the stomach.
Meanwhile, Willy and Brock had been in action since avoiding the first truck. The pair had gone for their confiscated weapons after the tribesmen holding them had dropped them in their surprise. After plucking them up, the MARDL team members followed Storm's lead and turned their guns on the wheels of another of the armored vehicles. With tires blown, the vehicle skidded to a stop and began to discharge its own soldiers. The wave of soldiers were surprised to find the fighting spirit of the native tribe was still strong in the face of their blitz, however, and were met with a wave of the spear-wielding warriors before they could begin to fight.
The tide of the sudden attack was turning against the soldiers, but as sudden as the fight had begun it was ended.
"Enough!" a voice boomed above the fracas, and everyone stopped in mid-fight to turn toward the sound.
The leader of the squad of marauders stood in the center of the village. He was huge, well over six and a half feet tall and thickly muscled. His grey uniform was like those of his comrades, but the sleeves had been ripped off and exposed his arms. Covering the leader's head and face was a steel helmet, and this was broken only by a narrow slit that his dark eyes peered out from. Mounted on the helmet was another pair of steel bull's horns, similar to what was mounted on the trucks' battering rams. Behind him the crew of the flaming armored truck were smothering the fire that had engulfed the vehicle, but the dying inferno seemed to frame his outline and made his appearance even more devilish.
The horned leader held one of the tribe's children up by the throat in one hand, and a heavy war mace in the other.
"Tell your men to stand down, Storm, or this little jungle-rat becomes my baseball." His voice was heavy and thick, strangely accented and modulated by the bizarre helmet he wore. "You won't get another chance."
The child kicked and flailed his legs and gripped the monstrous leader's wrists in a struggle to get free from the choking grasp. His eyes were wide and teary with fear. At the sight of the boy's struggling, the tribes-people had already ceased their fighting. They retained the grip on their weapons, however, and their eyes shifted from their leader to Storm.
Storm, who had frozen in mid-punch, release his hold on a soldier's collar and nodded angrily. "Drop 'em, guys," he told his friends. "There'll be other chances." Willy and Brock begrudgingly did as they were told and lowered their weapons to the ground. The other soldiers trained their weapons on the people of the village. If there was any trouble from Storm and his aides, they would be cut down. Too many innocent lives would be lost. Storm and his men were powerless.
"Predictable," the leader grunted. He lowered the boy to the ground but did not release the hold on his throat. "Give up your weapons to my men. And those gadgets, Storm... hand those over as well. Someone wants to see you."
Frustrated and helpless to act, the Americans did as they were told. Unarmed now, they were brought to the vehicle that had carried the hulking leader into battle; a group of soldiers accosted them. Storm and his friends were shackled and led into the rear of the truck, and the soldiers kept their guns trained on the captives the entire time. None of the group of uniformed men said anything else to the troubleshooters, even when they prodded their captors with questions. In the meantime, soldiers began repairing the tires on the crippled armored vehicles, and the fire was finally smothered on the armor plating of the lead vehicle.
Soon the vehicles were ready to leave, and one by one they left the village and its confused residents behind. They drove through the jungle as the sun reached its apex in the sky, through rough roads and bare sandy paths. The invaders on the island- if indeed that's who these men were- had obviously been quite busy and had cut their presence into the jungle for some time now. The paths lead the trucks inexorably onward, through the deep green jungle, to the other end of the island.
Finally, as the jungle path rounded a corner, the trees dropped away from the side of the road and exposed a deep, dark valley to the trucks' view. Storm, Willy, and Brock viewed the scene through a thin opening in the armor-plates on the side of the truck. They had glimpsed this valley earlier that morning from the air a few moments before the ornithopters' attack, and it seemed like a deep cut that bisected the entire island along its length. The valley was overgrown with jungle trees, and it seemed to swallow the light from the noonday sun above.
At the head of the valley, at the top of a cliff, stood a strange building. It looked like a castle, but the walls were smooth and window-less and the parapets were sharp and threatening teeth against the blue sky behind it. This was seen only for a few moments before the trucks rounded another turn and the trees around them swallowed the road up again.
Finally, the three trucks emerged from their road and rolled to a stop before the strange castle. The grand entrance was fitted with massive iron doors, over twenty feet in height, and these were wide open. Leading from these doors to the open archway of the cobblestone courtyard around the castle was a massive red carpet. As the shackled prisoners were led up the carpet toward the castle, they were approached by a tall man dressed in some kind of crimson and black military-dress uniform. He was flanked on either side by black-uniformed bodyguards. Tall and broad-chested, the man walked with a regal bearing and with his hands clasped behind his back. His mane of leonine hair was the same jet-black that his full beard was, and his eyes burned with a wild and dangerous light upon seeing the captives.
"Challenger Storm," he said in greeting, his voice deep and smooth.
"Count Zodiac," Storm responded. He was calm and assured on the outside, but inside the adventurer was kicking himself: he should have known it was Zodiac all along.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Saturday, September 29, 2012
CHALLENGER STORM: THE VALLEY OF FEAR- Episode 4
(NOTE: This serial takes place out of order chronologically with the Challenger Storm novels, which are being written with a definite timeline in mind. "The Valley of Fear" happens after at least book 5 or 6, but this shouldn't hinder the reading experience. I'm flying by the seat of my pants here, so I make no guarantees in regards to quality or coherence.)
+++
Episode 4: "The King's Tale"
“Don’t
move,” Storm quietly told Willy. “Don’t
even blink. We’re dangerously close to
becoming shish kebabs here.”
“I
can see that,” Willy replied, slowly rising to his feet. “Don’t worry about me.”
There
was a long, heavy silence. The woman’s
screams had ceased abruptly when they had been captured, and they had not been heard again since. Somewhere in the jungle there was a flurry of
squawking as a flock of birds lifted off from the treetops. The tribal warriors ringed around Storm and
Willy were unflinching and watched the duo with stern and curious eyes.
Finally,
Storm broke the silence. He spoke
several languages and was striving always to learn more… unfortunately, the
language of these islanders was unknown to him.
“English? Do any of you speak it?”
The
islanders were silent for a few moments before one of them said to another one
something low and quiet in their own language… the word “English” was buried within it but Storm didn't recognize the rest. The second man, who appeared to be a leader
from the slightly more ornamental elements of his primitive dress, nodded and
said another few words without taking his eyes off of the captive duo. Finally, he jerked his head over his shoulder
and said something to Storm as the ring of captors parted.
“I
guess he wants us to follow him,” Storm said, and Willy nodded. Before they started following the natives' lead the weapons were plucked from Storm and Willy’s
grasp, although Storm’s utility harness remained untouched. “What else can we do?" Storm confided to his friend. "If things get too hairy, we've still got a few
tricks up our sleeves.”
“Yeah, but what
about Brock?” the mechanic asked. “Maybe
he got away & is still out there?”
“Nope,
I’m comin’,” Brock rumbled, coming up behind them. He was accompanied by his own group of
captors, and they had disarmed him as well.
“Swell…
the gang’s all here,” Storm muttered as he began to follow the warriors’ leads.
The
warders led their captives through the jungle and the sweltering & humid air for
about twenty minutes before a rough path appeared before them.
They followed this path for another ten minutes before they came at last to a village. A large ring of bamboo huts
surrounded a communal fire pit and rings of sitting-stones, and from doorways
and the surrounding trees children and women began filing out to take a look at
the strange newcomers.
“Are
we dinner guests,” Brock rumbled, “or are we dinner?”
“They’re
not cannibals, Brock- at least I don’t think they are.” Storm searched them for signs of man-eating
behavior and didn’t see anything… yet.
They
were brought to a sandy patch near the center of the village, and a runner was
dispatched to a nearby hut. A few
moments later, another islander appeared wearing the same grass and reed clothing
as the others, and he was carrying a book. He wore a pair of round spectacles, and he pushed these up his nose with a finger in a typically studious gesture, strangely out of place here in the jungle and primitive people of his tribe.
“Uh…
hi,” the studious looking tribesman said to the captives in perfect English. “My name's Bob, and I’m your translator.”
“You
speak English?” Storm asked rhetorically.
Bob nodded. “I
spent some time in America,” Bob replied.
“Akron, Ohio to be precise. I learned a lot there. It’s a long story-“
The
leader of the capturing-party- evidently the leader of the entire village-
spoke up in his native tongue, and Bob fell silent. Finally when the tribal leader was done speaking Bob began again.
“The
king is wondering who you are, and where you came from, and why you’re here,”
he said.
“My
name is Clifton Storm,” he began. “My
friends here are Brock Thurman and Willy Avis.
We’re from the United States, and we were searching for a missing film
crew from Hollywood. We had heard they
had been passing through this area when their airplane disappeared. When we came close to this island we were
attacked by some kind of flying machines. They tore our seaplane to pieces and we had to
jump out and swim to the island.”
Bob
relayed this to the king, who eyed the captives warily as he listened. He said something back to Bob, who translated it
back to the group.
“The
king doesn’t believe you. He said that he and
his hunting party heard a woman screaming out in the jungle.
When they came to investigate they found you running through the jungle,
like you were chasing someone.”
“No, now
wait a second: we weren’t chasing anyone,” Storm defended himself. “We heard the woman and we were looking for
her, too. We never found her, and have
no idea who she was. We never even saw
her. Are there any women from your tribe
missing?”
Bob
related this to the king and the pair of them asked other tribesmen to take a
quick census. After a few minutes, they conferred
and Bob spoke up again.
“All
the women and children are here and accounted for,” he said. “The king still doesn't trust you, though. He thinks you might be working with the other
outsiders on the island.”
“Wait,
what other outsiders?” Willy asked. “You
know of others here besides yourself?”
Bob
spoke to the king, who seemed to consider something for a moment. Finally, he nodded and Bob spoke.
“He
says I can tell you our story,” Bob began as the king related his tale for him to translate. "This island is very closed off, far away from everyone, and that's just the way we liked it. We used to have free reign over all of it until several months ago when a strange airship arrived. Many men like yourself, white men from somewhere else, got out of the airship and set up a camp. We were curious and wanted to be friendly with them. Instead, we were chased away by the men and their weapons. Some of us were killed, and we got all of our tribe's people together and moved in here at the other end of the island, to be as far away from them as we could be.
"Shortly afterward," Bob continued, "we sent scouts back to the other end of the island, to watch the outsiders' actions. We were surprised: the newcomers were building a fortress there, and ships were bringing supplies to them. We are not sure who they are, but they are frightening to us... especially their leader. The king says he has the look of madness in his eye, but also of strength." Then, in a lower tone, Bob confided "I just think he's a loon myself, but the king is right... he does have some power over those soldiers of his They'd die for him... and we already know that they'd kill for him."
Storm thought deeply about the story... so deeply that he nearly didn't hear the rumbling sounds tearing through the jungle. His sensitive hearing alerted him several seconds before anyone else heard the noises. The villagers and their captives began looking around wildly. Something big and menacing was rocketing through the deep foliage that surrounded the village.
"Bob, give us back our weapons!" he commanded. The native's face had gone blank in the confusion. "Tell the king we need our guns!" he barked again. Bob began to speak rapidly to the king, who had already leaped to his feet, his spear at the ready to meet the incoming threat.
From the trees burst three heavily armored vehicles. The trucks were jet-black, their shapes nearly buried beneath the angular armor-plating and the double machine-gun turret upon their roofs. From the front of each truck a sloping battering-ram jutted out, and each of these was adorned with a pair of wide and sharp metal horns. On the vehicles' doors was a single decoration: a gold circle with a U-shaped line connected to the top.
The villagers scattered in fear. Warriors held fast to their spears, knowing the primitive weapons would never penetrate the thick armor of the vehicles. Confusion reigned.
Storm's hand whipped to his utility harness and he flung an incendiary grenade at the nearest armored truck. He had aimed the bomb toward a slit in the armor, seeking to shatter the windshield behind it but his throw was off and it struck the plating instead. The grenade burst across the front of the marauding vehicle instead, sheathing it in a spreading wave of fire. The driver of the truck ignored the flames and swerved the speeding juggernaut toward Storm and his allies, racing toward them with murderous intent.
"Shortly afterward," Bob continued, "we sent scouts back to the other end of the island, to watch the outsiders' actions. We were surprised: the newcomers were building a fortress there, and ships were bringing supplies to them. We are not sure who they are, but they are frightening to us... especially their leader. The king says he has the look of madness in his eye, but also of strength." Then, in a lower tone, Bob confided "I just think he's a loon myself, but the king is right... he does have some power over those soldiers of his They'd die for him... and we already know that they'd kill for him."
Storm thought deeply about the story... so deeply that he nearly didn't hear the rumbling sounds tearing through the jungle. His sensitive hearing alerted him several seconds before anyone else heard the noises. The villagers and their captives began looking around wildly. Something big and menacing was rocketing through the deep foliage that surrounded the village.
"Bob, give us back our weapons!" he commanded. The native's face had gone blank in the confusion. "Tell the king we need our guns!" he barked again. Bob began to speak rapidly to the king, who had already leaped to his feet, his spear at the ready to meet the incoming threat.
From the trees burst three heavily armored vehicles. The trucks were jet-black, their shapes nearly buried beneath the angular armor-plating and the double machine-gun turret upon their roofs. From the front of each truck a sloping battering-ram jutted out, and each of these was adorned with a pair of wide and sharp metal horns. On the vehicles' doors was a single decoration: a gold circle with a U-shaped line connected to the top.
The villagers scattered in fear. Warriors held fast to their spears, knowing the primitive weapons would never penetrate the thick armor of the vehicles. Confusion reigned.
Storm's hand whipped to his utility harness and he flung an incendiary grenade at the nearest armored truck. He had aimed the bomb toward a slit in the armor, seeking to shatter the windshield behind it but his throw was off and it struck the plating instead. The grenade burst across the front of the marauding vehicle instead, sheathing it in a spreading wave of fire. The driver of the truck ignored the flames and swerved the speeding juggernaut toward Storm and his allies, racing toward them with murderous intent.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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